He Doesn't Get It He Never Will
by aalikane
Summary: EQUATION 'VERSE: Kurt and Finn are watching TV one day when Blaine comes to the house with a broken arm, a black eye and in dire need of a place to stay. This is a prequel to my stories Out of the Equation and Physically Ill.


Author's note: This is a prequel to my story **Out of the Equation**** and Physically Ill** Based on the quote "I was there for him when his father kicked him out of the house 3 weeks before graduation. My father offered to let him move in with us, which he did and still does on breaks. " from Physically Ill.  
>Points of View: First section is Kurt, second section is Blaine, 3rd and 4th are Kurt.<p>

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I probably don't own it.

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><p>It was a dark and stormy night, Finn and I were sitting in the living room enjoying our brotherly bonding time while watching old reruns of TV shows that we used to love as kids. We were trading off between watching my personal favorite Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, and his favorite the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ahh Netflix, how much we love you.<p>

Dad and Carole were upstairs claiming to be paying bills, but both Finn and I knew that 'paying bills' translated to them having sex. They liked to think we didn't know, and we liked to think that they didn't know we knew, because the shared information would have made life incredibly awkward. At least someone in this house was getting laid, even if it was our parents, because both Finn and I were single and incredibly frustrated.

It was during one particular point of a Power Rangers episode where the pink ranger was trapped and needed Tommy to save her that we heard a knock on the door. Finn was closest, so he got up to answer it. After getting a bitch!glare from me of course, because he didn't want to get up at all.

A minute later though, I heard him say "Hey Kurt, can you come here for a minute?" Sighing, I paused the show and went towards the front door. I was shocked. There stood Blaine with a black eye and cradling his left arm as if it were broken.

"Blaine what happened?" I asked, rushing over to my best friend, and ushering him in from the rain. The sight of him was heartbreaking. He immediately started to cry and fell into my arms. I mouthed to Finn to 'Go get Dad!' with a look that clearly stated that I didn't care if he interrupted them doing something that would scar Finn for life, Blaine was hurt. "Shhh…" I whispered in Blaine's ear, who was just becoming more hysterical as time drew on.

"I can't believe it, Kurt. He pushed and then he kicked and oh God!" He stammered out, it sounded like he was only saying every other word, but it still didn't make any sense. I just held him tighter and lead him into the living room so we could sit down.

"C'mon Blaine, it'll be all right. Shh… calm down." It was heart wrenching to see him like this. The guy I've loved for the past year and a half. Watching him cry so hysterically over something I can't even comfort him about is an absolute terror to witness.

A few seconds later Finn, Carole and Dad came down the stairs and I saw them taking in the sight, wondering what the hell happened. Blaine was still crying into my shoulder as I just looked up at them, cluelessness written all over my face. I had no clue what was going on. Carole was the first to move, as she walked over towards us, and sat on the other side of Blaine on the couch.

"Blaine, sweetie, are you okay?" He looked up for a moment, fear etched into his eyes at being surrounded by the entirety of the Hudmel clan. When Carole and Dad saw his black eye, they gasped. He shook his head.

"What happened, kid?" Dad had always liked Blaine. He knew that Blaine's home life wasn't the strongest of constants in his life, and he wanted to give Blaine some semblance of a caring parental figure whenever Blaine was over at our house. So he always treated him like he was a son. If Blaine got into trouble at school, Burt always chastised him, because rarely did he ever get any kind of attention from his parents that wasn't regarding his sexuality.

"I…" he gulped. "I got into a fight with my dad." His grip on me tightened. I've always imagined what it would be like to be in Blaine's tight embrace. I had no idea the first time it ever happened would be something like this. "He…kicked me out." Blaine started to breathe heavy and quickly. It looked like he was about to start hyperventilating.

"Shhh, it's all right." I said once again. There's nothing else I could say. What do you tell your best friend who was just kicked out of his house after what looks to be like a physical altercation with his father?

"What did you two fight about?" Dad asked, and Blaine shrugged.

"It was the same thing we always argue about." Blaine sniffled. "He kept telling me that being gay was a phase, that I would grow out of and that I wouldn't stay this way forever." Everyone sighed, having heard him talk about his father before, knowing that his father never understood his son. "He doesn't get it. He never will." Blaine sobbed

"But it's never gotten violent before, has it?" Carole asked, clearly worried for Blaine's health. Blaine hesitates to confirm or deny the subtle accusation against his father, so I step in.

"This isn't the first black eye I've ever seen him with…" I whispered. Dad stares at me, slack jawed.

"He's hit you before?" Blaine nodded.

"We have these arguments every few months or so…I've only ever gotten a black eye once. Usually I can dodge his punches. But today he just kept calling me…" he gulped and bit his lips. I can tell what his father called him. I'm called it daily at McKinley by most of the jocks (minus the ones in Glee).

"You don't need to say it. I think we can all figure it out." I said aloud. It must have made him feel a bit of relief because I could feel his grip loosen. He took a deep breath and continued the story.

"He was drunk. When I told him that being gay wasn't a phase, and that I was going to be gay for the rest of my life, he just lost it. I don't know why he lost it this time, but he did. We were on the 2nd floor of the house." I noticed that he didn't say 'my house' or 'our house' but 'the house.' It's probably an indication that he really does think he can't go back home. "He pushed me and I fell and started to roll a bit…"

"Is that how you hurt your arm?" Carole asked, and he nodded.

"We were close to the stairs. After I started to roll…I hit the top step of the stairs, and from there, I kept falling." Finn hadn't said anything since Blaine first entered the house, but he really didn't have to, his face said everything he was feeling. I know he is still a little homophobic, and is actively trying to work through it, but seeing the look on his face after finding out what John Anderson did to his son, I could see that Finn was rapidly working through his problems with homosexuality. Knowing that someone can be that horrible towards another person over something they cannot control isn't right, he knows that, and seeing the evidence of it first hand, is probably hitting him harder than anyone thought it would.

"Is it broken?" Dad asked, and Blaine shrugged.

"Let me see it." Carole said, being a nurse practitioner allowed her to be a bit more adept at spotting medical problems than the rest of us. After a small examination of the arm, her face tightened. "It looks broken. We need to get him to the Emergency Room to make sure there is no other damage." Carole told Dad. Blaine shook his head.

"Please, no. I don't want to go to the Emergency Room."

"Blaine, we need to make sure you're okay. You fell down a flight of stairs, there could be other injuries that you aren't aware of. We just want to make sure you're going to be all right."

"Please Blaine?" I ask him and he turns to look at me. He takes a deep breath and swallows whatever was building up in his throat before nodding, ever so slightly that I almost missed it.

This hurts.

I'm in so much more pain than I lead them to believe. On a scale of 1 to 10, it was nearly a 12. My arm wasn't the only thing that was broken. I'm fairly certain that I have at least one broken rib from the fall down the staircase, and if I don't have any internal bleeding, I'm probably extremely lucky. I've always known my father was a violent man. He never kept his hands to himself when he got particularly angry, or drunk. Tonight was both. Burt, Kurt and I are waiting to be admitted at the Emergency Room. I'm sitting, holding my arm, and trying to not wince every time I move it, because it hurts. A lot.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked me, and I shrugged.

"Could be worse." I said blankly. Earlier, right after I agreed to go to the hospital I overheard Burt and Carole talking about letting me stay with them. Something I initially rejected, but eventually gave into. I don't want to be a burden on their family, but at the same time I don't know what I would do, if they wouldn't let me stay with them. It's only 3 weeks until graduation, and 2 months until I go away to college. Luckily I got a full ride to NYU on a music scholarship, so I don't have to worry about my dad not wanting to pay for school. I just had to figure out where to live for the next two months, and luckily for me, the Hummel's really liked me. It's probably a good thing that they're letting me stay with them, because it'll give Kurt and I a chance to deal with the pressures of living together in a dorm room, without having the pressure of college starting on top of us. Through all this, I have to keep remembering that Kurt and I are getting out of Ohio. We're going to New York, and we'll be able to lean on each other, because that's what friends do, right? He's leant on me in the past, now I'm leaning on him. I want to be there if and when he needs to lean on me again.

I honestly can't believe my father did this. He's never gotten this bad before. What's worse, I can't believe my mother wasn't there to prevent it. She always told me every time my father would give me a black eye that she'd be there and do everything she can to talk him down. Ever since I was 12 years old, and I got the first one when I came out. I just wish he would learn to accept me, like Burt does for Kurt. Burt isn't especially fond of the fact he has a gay son, but he doesn't hate it. He doesn't bash his own son until he ends up in the hospital. He doesn't yell at him until Kurt has the razor blade against his wrist. He doesn't push him until he breaks. Because I've been there.

Coming out was scary, especially to my parents. I knew my mom would be okay with it, but my father? Absolutely not. He wanted a normal son. He wanted a straight son, who would get married, and have 3 children and take over the family business. What a disappointment when he got me. Over the years, I think I've convinced myself that I loved my father, because it was expected. But as I grow up, and the more times I have to apply ice to my face after he gets drunk, I've come to realize that I don't love him. Not even a little.

I'm broken out of my semi-day dreaming when I hear my name. "Blaine Anderson?" A nurse came out into the waiting room, holding a clipboard. Kurt and Burt helped me up. She escorted us into an examination bed, where I was told to sit down and wait for a doctor. Kurt stood at my side and just held my hand, knowing that I needed a friend right now. Burt stood at the end of the bed. It's sweet to be perfectly honest. He's like a papa bear, ready to attack anyone who comes near intending to cause harm. I wish my father was more like Burt, instead of the complete 180 opposite.

A few minutes later, a doctor came over. A nice looking man about 5'9", with gorgeous brown locks, and the most amazing hazel eyes I've ever seen. "What seems to be the problem?" He asks.

"He fell down a flight of stairs, and hurt his arm. We also wanted to make sure that nothing else was wrong." Burt told the doctor, who turned to look at me, and asked for the full story.

"My dad… he… pushed me down the stairs." The doctor looked strangely at Burt for a moment, and it suddenly hit me that it looked like Burt was my father in this situation. "No!" I practically shout, eager to assure the doctor that the man standing here for me wasn't my father. "This isn't my father…" The doctor nodded.

"I'm Burt Hummel. Blaine and my son Kurt, here are friends. When Blaine came to our house today in this condition, I had to make sure there wasn't anything else wrong."

"It's nice to know someone cares for him." The doctor muttered and then turned to me. "Can I ask why your father pushed you down the stairs, Blaine?" I gulp. How do I tell someone that I don't know, that my father hates me? How do I tell someone that my father wishes I was never born? How can someone even possibly begin to understand that because of who I am, I was abused by my own father?

"We got into an argument, and he pushed me….I was a little too close to the stairs. I fell and started to roll. I couldn't stop myself. I ended up rolling down the stairs…" I hated this. Explaining to someone that I have never met before in my life, the personal details of my family's troubles. I've been taught from a young age to never air dirty laundry in public and this is precisely what I'm doing.

"Okay well, let's get you checked out, shall we?" He said, and began to check for bruising and a bunch of other things, I'd rather not think about.

We've been in the Emergency Room for about 2 hours now, and they've finally begun checking Blaine out. I'm standing there, next to his bed and the doctor asks him to take his shirt off to see the extent of the bruising on his torso. This could not be any more awkward for me. I mean, I've always wanted to get Blaine shirtless. But this is not the way I wanted it to happen. Especially not with him wincing while he did so. It's incredibly painful to watch. Not as painful as what Blaine is currently going through, but still emotionally painful, because I know this is only the beginning of what he's going to have to deal with. A few minutes later the doctor announces that they want to take some x-rays to make sure he didn't break any ribs falling down the stairs. I gasp when he says this, because I hadn't even thought of that as a possibility. When Blaine is carted off to radiology for the x-rays, dad and I hang back and once Blaine is out of sight, he pulls me into a hug.

"It's going to be alright son." He whispered as I finally released the tears that had been threatening to spill all night.

"How can anyone do that to him? How can his father push him down the stairs and not care that his son might have broken a rib, or even have internal bleeding?" I gasp out, trying to hold back the sobs.

"I don't know, son, I really don't know. Not everyone is lucky enough to have the same relationship we have. But Blaine is lucky to have you. You're a good friend to him." I give a half smile.

"I only do what's right. Anyone with a moral bone in their body would do the same." I try to explain it away, but I knew it wouldn't have mattered. My dad can see right through me.

"But that's not why you're such a good friend, is it?" He asks with a knowing look. I sigh and shake my head.

"I love him Dad, I hate seeing him like that. I hate knowing that he was put into so much pain by someone he was supposed to trust." He pulls me into another hug.

"I know you do son….I know you do."

It's 2am, and we're finally getting home. Blaine was released about a half hour ago, with the diagnosis of a broken wrist and one broken rib. Thankfully the rib hadn't pierced one of his lungs. He was ordered to take it easy for a few weeks while his rib healed and was put into a cast for his arm. Luckily, it's Sunday morning, so we don't have to go to school tomorrow. I know he'll have enough trouble with the rib and the wrist to have to deal with all the questions from the Warblers and the rest of the students at Dalton after they see what happened to him. Dad came in, carrying Blaine's pain medication for the next 24 hours, and a prescription they'd have to get filled over the next day or two. "Hey Bud, why don't you and Blaine go on up to your room? Go to sleep. You're both going to need it." After he gave both Blaine and I hugs (a very gentle one for Blaine) we started walking upstairs.

After we got into my room, I began searching to find some pajamas Blaine could change into. "Thanks Kurt…" Blaine said as he sat on my bed, probably still in shock from the events of the night. "I don't know who I would have gone to, if you weren't here." He smiled.

"You probably would have called Wes or David…though its more than likely that they won't give up their bed for you to sleep in." I said smiling as I handed him some PJ's. "Here change into these, as best you can. Then get some sleep."

"I can't take your bed, Kurt." I shake my head, and cut off any self-pitying party he was about to have.

"Nope, you don't get to make that decision. You're hurt, that means you automatically get the most comfortable place to sleep in the room." I turn around and grab my pajamas and head into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later I'm out, and he's just managed to pull the pajama pants up, but is having trouble with getting his shirt off. Luckily, it's a button up pajama top so he doesn't have to struggle too hard. "Here, let me help." A few seconds later his top is off, and he's slowly pulling on the shirt. Once it's all buttoned up, I take a look at him and have to hold in a chuckle. Blaine has managed to get into my pants. Once again, I've gotten something I've always wanted concerning him. If only the circumstances were different.

"Thanks Kurt, for everything. You're the best friend a guy could have." It hurts, because I know he'll only ever see me as a friend, when I'm desperate for something else.

"It's nothing, Blaine. Just go to sleep." He nods and slips under the covers of my bed. I grab the throw blanket from the top of the couch and lay down after shutting the light off.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispers out a few minutes later.

"Yea?" I reply.

"Do you think you could…. Never mind. It's silly." I get up from the couch and turn the light on and look at him.

"What is it, Blaine?"

"Do you think you could…. Hold me?" He asks, vulnerability all over his face. "I just…. Don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight." He confesses, and my heart breaks. I nod and quickly shut off the light again and slip under the covers with him. It's going to be so great to be able to hold him while we sleep, but I also know that he needs me for comfort, not because he needs _me_ to hold him. That fact upsets me more than it should. But when you've been in love with a boy for almost two years, what can you do?


End file.
